All Because of You
by Queen Mafalda
Summary: -One Shot- What really happened the night of Slughorn's famed party?


**AN: A quickly written one-shot that describes a brief encounter between Draco and Hermione. It was a sudden idea that sprung up into my mind earlier today and that I spontaneously decided to put into words. Please R&R.**

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**Disclaimer: JKR owns.**

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"Hermione, on with it," Ron shouted from over his shoulder.

I mumbled to myself, trying to keep up with his gallant pace. We were on our way back to the Gryffindor common room. Only an hour remained until the start of Slughorn's "grand" party. I was fully dressed and ready to go, yet deep within me a nagging feeling prickled my mind. Something about tonight felt terribly off, and I yearned to see Harry before arriving at the gathering. Perhaps just the sight of him would soothe my frazzled nerves.

Walking into the common room, I spy my bespectacled friend near the fireplace talking to Ginny. I smile at the scene before me, something about their relationship seemed to say forever, I could just tell. I sit down beside the coffee table rifling through an abandoned magazine. Glancing at the front cover, I outwardly grumble in annoyance. Of all things, it just had to be one about Quidditch. Flipping it open, I find myself just as quickly turning it shut. There was no use in even tricking my mind into reading it; I knew I would just bore myself to death. I look about the common room, in search of Ron. Somewhere and somehow he has already managed to disappear from sight, probably in an effort to find Lavender in hopes of a quick snog. I grimace in disgust at the very thought. I had always found Lavender's presence a tad unbearable, but now with her face constantly glued to Ron's, I can't even bear to stand the mere sight of her.

My mind moves on from such trivial thoughts to those of more peculiar bearings. Of the dark Lord's rising, of the Wizarding world's imminent fate. I wonder what has suddenly struck our school with such a storm. Why in fact, it seems that even the walls of Hogwarts have something to hide. My thoughts fall to that of the youngest Malfoy. I wonder if he could have avoided his doomed fate. Despite my personal resentment towards the Slytherin, I cannot help but feel an odd mixture of sympathy and pity towards Draco, for unlike the rest of us; he had lived a life forever condemned to solitude and remorse.

My mind suddenly reels back into time. I mentally scold myself for falling so deeply into thought. Harry now at my side looks down at me, his expression worried. I smile reassuringly at him; it seems a silent exchange is enough for us these days. Harry and Ron have almost become like the other half of my soul. I follow him out the common room door, we walk in silence, yet it is not in any sense awkward. If anything, it only brings peace and comfort to the weary.

The party has already begun as we enter, and I find myself warped into a muddle of people. Some of whom I recognize, many whom I do not. I stand against the wall adjacent to a side door, peering outwards; the endless ramble of Cormac McLaggen has suddenly bored me. Somewhere in the shadows I see a flicker of movement. My curiosity piqued, I slip out of the room without even excusing myself into the lonesome hallway ahead.

Scouting the area, I try to make the least amount of noise possible. Something within me tells that I should best go unnoticed. I hear a light rustling, from further down the hall and I cautiously make my way down the seemingly empty corridor. Someone is there; I can just feel it. From the corner of my eye I catch a sudden glimpse of silverish light. I turn and stare stupidly at where I could have sworn I just seen something. My forehead crinkles in annoyance, either I'm not alone in this hallway, or mind has decided to start playing tricks on me in an effort to quell my boredom. Walking onward, I silently head towards the before mentioned light. I feel my heart thud in shock as my mind takes in the sight before me. My eyes lock with those of the one and only Draco Malfoy. His tearstained cheeks reflect the cool moonlight filtering in through the murky window pane by his side. I cannot read the emotions which quickly flash in his grey eyes; at first I sense anger and humiliation but somewhere within the torrent of emotions I feel an overshadowing presence of defeat, of sheer humiliation. My heart goes out to him, but my gut stops me with a reprimanding air of sensibility. This is Draco Malfoy, newly inducted, novice Death Eater; the boy who had so cruelly called me mudblood these many years, whenever he felt the occasion warranted it.

I notice that Draco has yet to say anything to me; I feel that he too is still processing this surprising predicament he has suddenly become subject to. I continue to stare at him unabashedly. His once crisp school shirt is now crinkled and stained. His sleeves hastily rolled up, exposing his pale forearm. I notice that he does not move to hide what can be seen in plain sight. I figure he has realized that there is no reason to hide his so-called _secret _anymore. Those who would have made a move to judge him previously had come to such a realization quite some time ago. His platinum blonde hair is no longer neatly combed as it used to be, much of it covers his forehead now and holds almost a windswept look, though something tells me has not been outside in days. There is a haggard look in his grey eyes; they no longer hold that crystallized glint so characteristic of the Malfoy men. Though deep within those stormy orbs, the old Draco stares back at me with all the loathing in the world.

He is the first to speak. "Granger…" he begins. I am shocked that he decided to not use my more vile pet name.

"Malfoy," I counter, holding his gaze. His lips part, but no words come out. He too is at loss as to what to say.

"I'm sorry," I murmur after a few minutes have passed. Draco looks up in surprise.

"For what?" he asks almost harshly. I try not to look surprised at the iciness of his words. Who am I kidding, this is Draco Malfoy after all, no matter what the scenario is, I should never expect a pleasant or near pleasant conversation with him.

I look away, fumbling awkwardly with the hem of my silken blouse. For once in my life I feel at a loss for words, I feel my sudden spark of bravery slink away. My eyes fret nervously to and fro, I wonder why I even felt the urge to walk down this eerie hallway, talking to Draco Malfoy had not been on my agenda for tonight, or any night for that matter.

I bite my lip nervously as I sense a sudden movement from the Slytherin beside me. He now stands by his previous perch on the wide windowsill, and towers a good half a foot above me. I chance a glance back into his silvery eyes to only see an indifferent abyss stare back at me. I wonder what I have gotten myself to. Draco was no average student; he was a follower of the Dark Lord. Here we stood, good against evil, he could easily do something horrible and no one would ever know, here deep within this estranged corridor.

His calloused hand reaches out towards me, and I step back startled by his action. My heart races as he moves in my direction once again, cupping my cheek with his blistered palm. His smooth lips lean are suddenly touching my own in a chaste kiss. My mind cannot even process what is happening. I see stark white behind my closed eyelids. Draco pulls away, moving towards my exposed neck, where he kisses me again, pulling me closer to him by the waist. I cannot believe that I am allowing this to happen. Here I am mudblood, Hermione Granger, faithful sidekick to the boy who lived in the arms of everything I had grown to hate. There was more than one thing wrong with this picture. No excuse would ever do this scene justice. Yet neither of us made a move to push the other away. I let my eyes flutter shut as Draco trails feather light kisses down my neck and towards my collarbone. He squeezes my sides gently as he plants his final kiss.

I feel breathless at his actions. He silently puts his arms around me and I lean my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeats. Somehow I feel so safe, so comfortable. I pull away, looking up at my unsuspecting suitor; I open my mouth to speak. But he presses a finger to my lips, silencing me in an instance. His eyes say it all; there is no reason for conversation.

He sits back down onto the aged windowsill and I lean in placing a soft kiss on his forehead. With one last glance I turn on one heel and make my way down the hall and back to the party, leaving Draco just as I had found him. My heart no longer races, and my mind slowly enters a gradual streamline of tranquility.

Our short exchange speaks volumes. He was truly not the embodiment of evil, rather the unfortunate pawn of his own parentage. I prayed that someday I would meet him under better circumstances, where we would not be forced into such opposition. I hoped that the war would not kill him.

For even Draco Malfoy did not deserve to die.

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**AN: So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Just plain in-between? **


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